For the Love of Tomatoes
by gypsywriter135
Summary: <html><head></head>A collection of crack stories about the most dysfunctional couple ever. Rated for Romano's potty mouth.</html>
1. Chapter 1

This is going to be fun! XD

So, basically, this is based off an entire text message role play between a friend and me. I'm Spain, and she's Romano (the best Romano ever!). We actually do this all the time, but this time, it was too epic for me not to do something about it, so she recommended that I write it into an actually story.

Best. Idea. EVER.

So, here was are. I hope you enjoy this as much as we enjoyed it! XD

**Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine... no matter how much I kick and scream and cry... :(**

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><p>Romano huffed and crossed his arms, turning away from the annoying nation in front of him, who was pouting dramatically.<p>

"But… why, Romano?" Spain whined.

"Because I don't care, you fucking moron," the smaller Italian country snapped.

Behind his back, Romano didn't see the Spaniard grin suddenly and produce a tomato from seemingly nowhere. All that the auburn haired nation was aware of was that there was suddenly a round, red fruit in his vision.

"Do you care now, Romano?" Spain asked, smiling as he waved the tomato in front of the smaller man.

Romano had difficulty not following the red deliciousness. Instead, he shifted his eye back and forth, trying to look anywhere besides the tomato. "… No…." he said, uncertainty clinging to his voice.

Spain continued to wave the tomato back and forth, grinning like an idiot. He said nothing.

Romano tried to look past the tomato, but gave up when the temptation became too much. He suddenly jumped up, trying to grab the fruit from the other. "Give that to me, dammit!"

The Spaniard reached up, keeping the tomato out of the smaller nation's reach. **"**Oh, Romano, you're so cute when you're angry!" he cried grinning, face scrunching up into a stupid smile.

"Give me the fucking tomato, you bastard, or I'm going to my brother's place!" Romano snapped, resisting the urge to jump up again to try to get the offending fruit. If he couldn't reach it physically, then he'd have to manipulate the Spaniard to get the stupid tomato.

However, his plan immediately backfired when Spain's face lit up even more. "Oh! You can bring Italy here too! He'll like my tomatoes!" His grin grew wider.

Romano gaped for a total of two seconds before rage boiled up inside. "I'd rather go to the potato bastards house than bring Italy here, you fucking pedophile!" Of course, he had every right to be worried. Spain was a freaking pedobear for fuck's sake!

Spain looked momentarily confused. "Huh? Why would you want to go to Germanys…?" Romano could almost see a light bulb suddenly go off above the brunette's head. Unfortunately, it wasn't the correct conclusion that was _supposed_ to have been. "OH! I'll come with you! Maybe Prussia and I can find France and go out drinking!"

Romano mentally facepalmed. "You can go. I'll just go to my house to stay away from all you fucking pervs… " He thought for a moment. "I'm locking everything too so you cant sneak in when you're wasted," he added as an afterthought.

Spain frowned sadly. "Why do you hate me, Romano? All I ever do is give you tomatoes and raise you and take care of you and love you…" And then the idiot began to cry.

Romano's face softened, but he quickly covered it up, glaring at the taller man. "…Stop fucking crying, you pussy…" When Spain's tears refused to stop, the Italian felt his chest constrict painfully. "Or ill start crying too…" he said softly.

The brunette man turned away from Romano. "But you hate me… " A choked sob escaped his mouth.

Romano sighed and uncrossed his arms. "I don't exactly HATE you…" he murmured. "You mostly annoy the fuck out of me."

Spain glanced over at his former charge. "So… you don't hate me…?" he asked.

Romano rolled his eyes. "God, you're so fucking stupid."

Spain let out a loud wail, causing Romano to jump in fright. "So you DO hate me!"

Romano sighed in annoyance. See, this is what he meant. "…I never said that…" he grumbled. "But you are fucking stupid."

Spain sniffled. "But you're always so mean to me…"

Romano glared, though it held hardly any malice. God, this man could bring out the worst feelings in him. He had to do _something_ to diffuse this situation before it got out of hand and Spain did something stupid. "Think about it, moron, am I nice to anyone?" he snapped.

Spain paused and thought about it for a minute. "… No… " he said. "But you're always the worst to me… why, Romano?" he frowned again as a few more tears streaked down his face.

Romano actually did facepalm this time. "Who do you live with?" he cried. "... Fucking moron…" he murmured.

Spain's head popped up. "That's true!" he cried, a small grin adorning his face. Romano's heart fluttered. "You do live with me…" the brunette murmured to himself.

"…You're still a moron…" Romano muttered, looking away.

The taller nation suddenly looked hopeful. "But I'm your moron… right?" he asked, eyes wide.

Romano grimaced and refused to look at the other. "…Don't make me say it, tomato bastard…"

Spain grinned. "Say what, Romano?"

The Italian nation blushed. "I guess you're my moron…." He muttered, then promptly passed out.

Spain panicked. "ROMANO!" he cried, running over and kneeling next to the younger man. "Romano!" he yelled again, shaking the other frantically. "I love you, Romano! Don't leave meeeeee!" he wailed.

Romano remained dead.

Spain looked up into the sky, Romano lying in his arms, tears rolling down his face. "¿ ¿ ¿ POR QUE?" he screamed dramatically.

"That's what you get for making me say embarrassing things, asshole," said an annoyed voice.

The Spaniard looked down at the nation in his arms. "Romano?" he asked, disbelief on his face. " YOU'RE ALIVE!" he cried, happily.

"Unfortunately…" Romano grumbled. Dammit, why couldn't he just stay dead? Damn him being a nation!

Spain snuggled Romano. "Oh, Romano! I was so worried!"

Romano pushed the annoying man away. "…Stop smothering me, idiot."

The taller nation refused to budge. "But you almost died! I almost lost my little tomato!"

Romano's anger returned. Damn this idiot! "That's it. I'm going to Veneziano's."

Spain's face brightened. "Oh! I want to see Italy too! I'll come with you!" he jumped up, and Romano nearly cracked his head on the ground. He fumed.

"Fuck no," he protested. "You always pay more attention to him than me…"

Spain was not listening, however. Instead, he was gathering a box of tomatoes together to take to Italy's house. "Do you think I should bring some churros too?" he asked.

Romano sputtered. "…Why do I even try?"

The other nation looked up. "Hey, Romano? Do you think Italy will like pollo?"

Romano glared at the oblivious nation. "Who doesn't like chicken?" He thought for a moment. "Why the hell am I answering your stupid questions?"

The other grinned. " 'Cause you looooove me." Spain waggled his eyebrows.

The Italian blushed ridiculously. "Fuck you!"

Spain's grin grew wider. "Yes, please!"

Romano had it. "That's it!" he cried. "I'm going to my brother's house by myself! Fucking pervert pedophile…" he turned to leave but Spain's hand shot out to grab hold of his arm and held him fast.

"I think Italy can wait a few hours," the taller nation smirked.

Romano paused for a moment. "…If you let me go now, I'll come back early…" he said, trying to manipulate the other into letting him go.

It backfired when Spain flung him over his shoulder and began to walk back to the house. "Nope," he grinned. "Ahora!"

Romano kicked his legs and pounded the idiot's back with his fists. "Put me down you fucking bastard!" he screamed, face red from anger.

Spain continued walking. "Nope," he said.

"I'll pass out and die again!" Romano warned, trying anything to get away from the stupid bastard.

Spain smirked. "Oh, you'll pass out, alright," he promised.

Romano sighed. "…Fine…" He fell limp on the other's shoulder. "… I give up."

Spain pat Romano's butt gently in affection **"**That's my little tomato," he grinned happily.

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><p>Seriously, this went on for over an hour through text messaging. We're perfect for the two countries XD. No hesitation what-so-ever.<p>

Basically, my plans for this story is a collection of oneshots that revolve around the dialogue between my friend and I. It should be fun! XD

REVIEWS MAKE THE WORLD GO 'ROUND!


	2. Chapter 2

We were at it again! XD

This time, it wasn't as epic as before, though the ending it funny, lol. XD

So enjoy the second installment of "For the Love of Tomatoes!"

**Disclaimer: "Hetalia" doesn't belong to me... :(**

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><p>Spain was quietly reading over some forms in his office when his door suddenly slammed open and an irate Italian stomped over the threshold.<p>

"Make me some food, dammit. You promised me three meals a day and a nap with pasta," Romano snarled, looking extremely angry.

Spain sighed and set down the paper he was holding. Looked like the smaller man was in one of his moods again. "But Romano, I'm busy right now…"

Romano simply glared at him. "Does it look like I give a fuck?" he spat, walking over to the older nation.

The brunette rearranged his desk some. "But I need to do this before I make you pasta," he said softly.

The Italian nation ran a disgusted eye over the messy desk. "What on earth could you be doing that's more important than making pasta?" The look he gave the wooden piece of furniture was enough to bring it to flames.

"Getting an education…." Spain muttered, fanning the flames away with a giant wad of papers and flicking off the small pile of ashes that had accumulated in the corner.

"Is it possible for you to learn anything of value?" Romano asked, picking up a few papers and running an angry eye over it as he read the text over it.

Spain gave him a small pout. "Romano, I'm disappointed by the lack of faith you have in me."

The other snorted. "You haven't given me a reason to have faith in your intelligence."

The Spaniard frowned sadly. "But why, Romano?"

Romano glared at him. Spain could be so _stupid_. "Could you give me an example of your overwhelming intelligence over the course of your lifetime?"

Spain thought for a moment, looking past the other man, face scrunched up in concentration. "… I won FIFA…?" he half asked after a few minutes.

Romano rolled his eyes. "That's a game of athletic skill, not intelligence… moron." God, the shit he put up with.

The Italian watched as Spain thought hard for a few more minutes. "I accept gay marriage?" he asked, giving a small smile.

The auburn haired man stood still for a moment. "… True," he muttered, not liking that the other had thought of something he couldn't argue.

Spain simply gave him a sloppy grin.

Romano sent another glare at the Spaniard. "That's sad that that's the only example of intelligence you have to offer," he growled.

Spain simply grinned, waving a finger at him. "Ah, but its one of the things you love about me," he stated.

Romano thought about it as he stared at the desk, refusing to make eye contact with the other. "…I don't know why…."

The Spaniard's grin grew. "It's simply the power of loooovvveee," he sang. God, if that grin got any bigger, his face would split…

The only response the Italian could offer was a facepalm."

Spain chuckled and turned back to his desk, reaching for a stack of papers. "You chose me' he grinned.

Romano huffed. "I didn't have much to choose from, so don't flatter yourself," he argued. It was true; between pedophile Spain and pervert France, the brunette was obviously the lesser of the two evils. Besides, France was crap on the battlefield. At least Spain was somewhat strong, what with being a pirate and that doubled-edged axe of his… Not to mention the bull fights and-

"Don't gimme that, my little tomato," Spain's grin refused to leave his face. "You instantly fell in love with my charm."

Oh, fuck no! "…I can still go live with Belgium…" Romano argued. Anything to wipe that grin off that idiot's face. "She's nice to me…."

Spain's head snapped up to look Romano. "NOOOOOO!" he screamed, and flung himself from the chair towards the smaller nation. "DON'T LEAVE MEEE!"

Romano, startled by the other's reaction, backed up, eyes wide and face red. "Then stop acting like a fucking moron. And I know it's hard for you to do that…"

And…. Now Spain was hanging off his arm… Romano mentally sighed. "Don't leave me, Romano!" he pleaded, looking up at his former charge. "What would I do without you?"

Romano snorted. "Probably mope around, get drunk, and kill yourself… like the idiot that you are."

Spain nodded frantically. "I WOULD kill myself!" he agreed. Romano mentally cheered; he had won this round. "I need my little tomato!"

And then the idiot had to say something like that… "Oh, my fucking, god…

"See? You can't leave meee!" The taller man's cried were getting more desperate.

"You're so fucking pathetic."

Spain gave him the most pathetic kicked puppy look. Romano glared back at him enough to make the Spaniard recoil in fear.

"Why are you mad at me, Romano?" he whimpered from his place on the floor.

"Because you're such a fucking moron and it pisses me off," Romano snarled.

Spain started crying. God, was that all this idiot did? Grovel and cry and eat tomatoes and smile? "But… I don't mean to piss you off…"

"Even if you don't mean it, you still do it!" Romano yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the man on the ground.

"But I don't know how to stop!" the brunette sobbed dramatically.

"You could start by growing a brain," the Italian spat.

Spain suddenly stood up, grabbing onto his arm again. "How do I do that? Do I get seeds from the store?" he asked. He was _Spain_! He could grow anything!

Romano stared at him in disbelief before yanking his arm from the other's grip and turning on his heal, leaving the office. "I'm not going to dignify that with a response…" he said as he walked away.

Spain stared after him, crestfallen. "But how do I grow one if you wont tell me?"

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><p>Oh, Spain, you lovable idiot. XD<p>

I should probably mention that updates won't be on a schedule. It's basically just whenever my friend and I have these conversations. I'll save the messages and then type them on Word and make them sound pretty :)

So until the next time one of these epic role plays happen, REVIEW! :D


	3. Chapter 3

Yup, we were at it again, lol. XD

This time, we weren't even in the same state! lol. Actually, this happened about 3 weeks ago, but I've been doing multi-language videos and kinda forgot about this... lol. I'll also be posting another Prussia one soon, 'cause this idea has been floating around in my head for a while.

But enough about him. Let's get onto the next part of the most dysfunctional relationship known to man! :D

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

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><p>One very irate Italian stormed outside the huge house, Spain following, face distraught. "Why, Romano? Why do you hate me?"<p>

Romano refused to look back and continued his angry march away from the older man. "Cuz you're a fucking perverted tomato bastard," he snarled.

With his back to the other nation, he missed the smile that blossomed. "Oh, but you enjoy it."

The smaller man stopped, still refusing to look at the other. "No…. not really," he said.

"Fine, then I guess I'll just… go away~" Spain began to walk away back to the house, which caused Romano to finally glace behind him. When he saw the Spaniard's retreating form, he scowled. "… Where are you going?" he asked. "You still owe me pasta!" he cried when the there was no answer.

Spain disappeared around the corner of the house, leaving Romano standing in the front yard. "… What the fuck?" the small Italian screamed, disbelief running across his face. This was _not_ how their fights were supposed to go. Romano was supposed to get angry, Spain was supposed to grovel after him, words were exchanged, Romano forgave the idiot, even if it was Romano's fault that the fight was started to begin with, and they continued to their dysfunctional relationship in peace.

Certain Spaniards were _NOT_ supposed to walk away in the middle of one their fights!

There was silence from around the corner. "You'd better not be ignoring me dammit!" There was still no response. Well then… two could play at that game! "… Fine. I'll just take a siesta…. Alone… I'll just start by taking my clothes off so I can sleep…"

It worked like a charm. Spain immediately rushed around the corner screaming "ROMANO!" he glomped the little Italian. "I want to siesta tooooo!" he cried, and immediately began to strip, smiling hugely.

Romano gaped. "Put your fucking clothes on. No one wants to see that…"

He was ignored… Like usual… "Come on, Romano! Let's go take a siesta together!" The grin that Spain wore was so huge, if it got any bigger, it was going to split his face in half.

Romano scowled. "No. I said I was gonna take one alone." He put his hands on his hips, proof that he was serious. It finally got Spain's attention as he looked up from undoing his belt.

"You mean…. You wont take a siesta with me?" he asked, smile falling.

"Hell no!"

Spain stared sadly at Romano. And in the way that only the idiot could, his lips morphed into a pout.

Romano looked at Spain, sighing. "… Stop looking so fucking pathetic."

The pout only became more pronounced and Romano was getting annoyed. "Fucking stop it!"

Spain looked at the ground sadly.

"… God, you're so fucking pathetic…. You can have a siesta with me only if you keep your clothes on and your body parts to yourself…" This was generous on Romano's part. At least he was giving in, something he normally didn't do.

Instead of the smile Romano was expecting, Spain simply moved his head so that his bangs covered his eyes and his shoulder slumped forward. "What are you sulking about now, you fucking pussy?" Romano sighed. Honestly, the shit he put up with…

Spain didn't answer, but only continued to look like a kicked puppy. "What the hell are you pouting about?" Romano was beginning to get angry again…

Spain refused to look up. "But… I love you, Romano…." He muttered. "I want to show you that I love you…"

"You can show me when I'm not sleeping," Romano glared.

Spain looked up, a hopeful look on his face. "Before siesta?"

"After, dammit." Romano refuged to budge. He was tired, damnit!

The hopeful look melded into another depressed one.

"Stop fucking pouting. You're lucky that ill actually put out for your ugly face."

Once again, Spain broke their normal routine and turned and walked away. What the fuck was this? Why the hell did this idiot keep having to break the norm?

"Fine," Romano huffed. "Since you wont stop PMSing, I'll just have a siesta by myself." He mentally cheered. This was _sure_ to get him!

Spain turned around and pointed a finger at the Italian. "Fine," he agreed. "I will too. All by myself… alone… in my HUGE bed…"

Romano rolled his eyes. "I have a fucking huge bed too, you moron." Did the idiot forget when he bought the bed for him? "And it's a hell of a lot more comfortable than yours." This was a lie, of course. For whatever reason, Romano always slept better in the Spaniard's gigantic bed… with it's soft mattress and it's silk sheets…

"But it's not rojo!" Spain retorted, snapping Romano from his thoughts. "And it's better! It has a canopy!"

Romano was grasping at something to say. There was no way in hell that Spain would ever get the last word! "Well color doesn't matter since I'll just be sleeping in my bed," he said.

"But rojo is the color of loooovvveeee~!" Spain sang, a goofy look on his angry face that was, though Romano would never admit it outloud, quite sexy…

"No… it the fucking color of tomatoes," he corrected, then added, "which I wont be eating when I'm sleeping."

Spain pointed a finger at him again. "LIES!" he yelled. "You love tomatoes!"

"… Doesn't mean I wanna think about them when I'm sleeping!"

Spain smirked. "Fine, then. No more tomatoes for you."

Romano frowned. What…? "… I never said that I never wanted to eat tomatoes again…" When had his vision suddenly become blurry?

But it was like magic. Spain rushed forward. "Oh, don't cry, Romano!" He cooed.

Romano sniffed. "I'm not fucking crying like a pussy like you do…" he denied. He sniffed again. "I just have something in my eye…" He rubbed his eyes with his hand as Spain clutched him to the taller man's chest and patted his hair.

"It's okay, Romano," he soothed. "You can still have tomatoes."

Romano huffed as the last of his tears fell. "I'd better get fucking tomatoes you moron…." He muttered. "You still owe me pasta."

Spain smiled softly. "I'll make you pasta after our siesta."

"Good."

Spain gently pushed the Italian away and grabbed his hand instead. He began to lead him towards the house. "Lets' go have a siesta," he said.

Romano stopped abruptly, pulling the Spaniard up. "I thought I said I was sleeping alone unless you were clothed and kept your hands to yourself," he glowered.

Spain glared at the house. "Damn…" he muttered.

Romano ripped his hands out of the other's grip. "… you fucking pervert."

Spain sighed. "Fine. But afterwards…?" he asked hopefully.

He was tired of this shit… "… Sure," Romano agreed. All he really wanted to do was sleep.

Spain grinned. Romano scowled. "Don't be so cocky."

Spain's grin faltered. "But…. I'm not…" he said.

Romano sighed. "I'm just sick of arguing with you is all…" he said. "Its not because I think you're attractive at all… because you're not," he added quickly. He squacked as he was roughly pulled close to a muscular chest. Hot breath ghosted across his ear, making him shiver.

"I love you, Romano."

"Fuck off," Romano glared. He pushed away and blinked up at the older man, whose face was morphed into one of sadness.

"I see now how you really feel…" the older man muttered before turning away.

Romano stared after him, watching. His mouth was open as he watched his retreating back. "… …"

Spain continued to walk away slowly.

"Where the fuck are you going, you tomato bastard?" the Italian asked, bewildered.

The other refused to turn around. "To take a siesta by myself since my little tomato doesn't love me," Spain murmured.

Romano very nearly stamped a foot on the ground. "Just get your sorry ass over here and hold me!" he cried, then gasped. His eyes widened as his hands flew up to cover his mouth in shame.

Spain stopped abruptly, then slowly turned around, staring at Romano. The small man stared back, eyes huge, not removing his hands.

" … "

Spain just continued to stare, not saying a word. Romano blushed and moved his hands. "Don't fucking look at me!" he exclaimed.

Green eyes bore into his own. "… Fucking stop…" he muttered. Spain's eyes refused to move. Why wouldn't he say anything? "… I'm going back to my house…."

Spain moved closer to the younger man. "You don't want to have a siesta with me?" he asked quietly, gaze never wavering.

"Not if you keep staring at me like that…" Romano huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. The Spaniard continued to move closer.

"Okay…. Then lets take a siesta…." He said.

Romano uncrossed his arms and looked away. "… Fine…." He sighed.

Spain grinned and grabbed his hand, leading the, back to the house.

"… I'm so done with fighting with you," Romano grumbled, even though he knew that no matter what, this would hardly be their last fight.

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><p>God, I love this couple... lol.<p>

Hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome, flames are not, as usual.


	4. Chapter 4

This role play was actually done months ago. It last for 3 hours, and I actually forgot about it until a few weeks ago. I started actually writing it, and literally just finished it a few minutes ago. It's eleven pages on Word, and the longest role play we've done to date. It's pretty funny, total crack, and features Crazy!Spain. Hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed doing it!

**Disclaimer: Spain nor Romano belong to me... even though I think it'd be awesome if they did. As a matter of fact, "Hetalia" doesn't belong to me, either... Damn...**

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><p>Romano was lying on the couch in Spain's study as the older nation did some work on the computer at his desk. The Italian was complaining to the brunette about all of the things that he didn't like in the Spaniard's country, and telling him why pasta was clearly the superior food.<p>

"But I don't like them…" Spain whined, not turning around to look at the other.

"Then go suck a fat one," was Romano's flippant reply.

"Okay," the taller one said, and Romano could just _see_ the smile on the other side of that brown head.

"Oh, fuck you, Spain." Romano was not going to fall for this one again.

"But I can't, Romano," Spain said. "It's not Wednesday. You'll have to wait 'till tomorrow."

Romano was pleasantly surprised, to say the least. Either Spain was finally breaking under Romano's rule, or he was way too preoccupied with whatever it was that he was doing on the computer. "I didn't know that you could wait a full day, bastard."

"Well, I am pretty tired," was Spain's reply. "Plus, I wanted to harvest some tomatoes. Many are ripe for picking."

Say what, now? Romano scowled and got up from his position on the couch and sauntered over to where Spain was currently sitting. He peeked over his shoulder, rolling his eyes. "What have I told you about playing Farmville on Facebook?" he scolded. "It's a fucking waste of time when you already grow real tomatoes…"

Spain pouted, moving his mouse around the screen and clicking rapidly on the plots of land. "But… I need the money…"

"Your economy sucks to begin with. How do you think that harvesting fake plants to sell for fake money will help you gain real money?" Romano turned around, refusing to be a part of Spain's stupidity any longer.

"Silly, Romano," Spain chuckled, still not looking away. "I won't get money in real life. Plus, I only need 3,000 more coins to get a villa!"

Romano huffed. "…I want to live in a villa…" he muttered, stopping on his way out the door.

"Then let me harvest the tomatoes!" Spain cheered, mouse still clicking away.

"I don't want a pixilated villa. I want a real one!" Romano cried, turning sharply on his heels and facing the Spaniard. He wanted to live in the lap of luxury, for Heaven's sake!

The brunette sighed, finally turning to look at the smaller man. "Romano, I can barely afford to repaint the walls every time you get mad and throw tomatoes at me, let alone build you a new villa…"

Honestly, he didn't see what the problem was… "I don't fucking care. I want one right on the beach," he demanded. "… in Italy!" Romano added as an afterthought.

"Why can't you just live here with me?" Spain asked. "My house is almost as big as a villa!" He smiled.

"Because your country smells like tomatoes and it makes me sick." The Italian told him. "It's almost as bad as the potato bastard's house."

The Spaniard was grinned. "You love tomatoes," he started, then stopped, frowning slightly. "… Wait, what were you doing at Germany's house?"

"Veneziano dragged me there," Romano told him flippantly. "… And the smell of tomatoes here is so overpowering that it's sickening." He continued the previous conversation.

"You went to Germany's…?" The older man asked, voice tight and clipped. "Was… was Prussia there, too?"

"Yes, and tried to force feed me wurst," Romano said with a wave of his hand and a scowl on his face. "…. Why the hell are you asking?"

Spain's eye twitched. "He made you eat his wurst…" His fists clenched at his sides, computer game completely forgotten. Romano carried on, completely oblivious to Spain's behavior.

"It was almost as bad as the scones that England served at the last meeting," he ranted.

"You ate… his wurst…" Spain said slowly. His hands unclenched for a moment, fingers twitching, before becoming fists again.

Romano snorted. "That's what I said, you dumbass. Are you fucking deaf?"

The only response he got was for Spain to spring out of the chair, stomping to the small closet that was in the room, and throwing the door open. He rummaged around in it, muttering in incomprehensible Spanish, completely ignoring the Italian.

Roamno watched on, slightly annoyed and a little confused. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Aha!" Spain cried, suddenly pulling out his old battle axe. He swung it over his shoulder and began to walk to the door that led out into the hallway.

"Wait!" Romano yelled, confused. He followed after the wayward Spaniard. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

The taller man smiled manically over his shoulder as his hand rested on the front doorknob. "To kill Prussia," he said.

Romano stopped, watching as Spain cackled, making his way down the driveway. As weird as Spain was acting, this could work to his advantage… "Can you kill the other potato bastard as well?" he called from the doorway.

"No… no, he didn't force my Romano to eat wurst… Only Prussia must die…" Was Spain's reply.

Romano smiled evilly. Oh, yes… this could work out very well… "… Well, Germany was the one that made the wurst"

Spain stopped for a moment in the driveway. "Then he will die too…" he responded, before holding his axe up in the air. "Everyone shall perish!"

Romano rolled his eyes. "Fucking psychopathic bastard…." He muttered. "Have fun killing. I'll just stay here and make pasta…"

Spain whipped around, pointing a finger at the smaller man. :Good. I shall kill everyone and when I return, we shall dine!" He spun back forwards, cackling like a madman.

If Spain was like this more often, perhaps Romano wouldn't have to yell at him so much. "That sounds fine. At least save Feli ," he added as an afterthought, "since he's my baby brother and all…" There was a good chance the younger Italian was at the potato bastard's house. And as much as Romano hated him, Italy was still his brother…

"No, everyone will die!" Spain cried, halting in his march to Germany. He turned around once more. "I think I'll start with France, he's always been a pervert… Then to Italy, and then Germany and then THE WORLD!"

This… may not have been the best idea… Something was seriously wrong with the tomato bastard… "Hey, asshole. Veneziano didn't do anything to me. Keep him alive. Feel free to kill anyone else. Hell if I care…."

"Italy will perish as well!" Spain argued. "The manipulative bastard!"

Romano blinked. What? "I don't think Veneziano knows how to be manipulative. He probably doesn't even know what that word means!"

"No!" Spain shouted. "He's manipulative! All happy and cheerful… it's just a cover!"

Okay, Romano was pretty sure that the other man had lost it. "What the fuck are you going on about?"

Spain looked to the sky, axe held in both hands as he brandished it above his head. "THE WORLD WILL PERISH! NO ONE WILL TOUCH MY LITTLE TOMATO!"

A lightbulb suddenly went on over Romano's head. "… I think he forgot to take his medication this morning… fuck…" he muttered to himself.

Spain had turned around and was making his way down the driveway once more, a mantra of "," spewing from his mouth. Romano hurried back inside the house to grab the idiot's medicine.

"Oh, hola, Italy!" He heard, sprinting back outside. "No, Romano's not here…"

"Hey, bastard. I have a tomato for you!" Romano called, trying to get Spain's attention away from Italy as he sprinted down the driveway. "All you have to do is take a step to your left!"

"No, that's not Romano, silly Italy!" Romano skidded around the corner in time to see Spain raise his axe, Italy looking on in confusion.

"Fine, we'll just have to do this the hard way," Romano said to himself. He produced a dart gun from out of no where and loaded it with the medicine, taking careful aim.

"Why would you think he's here?" Spain asked, arms flexing, getting ready to swing the axe down. Romano took a deep breath, pressed his lips to the gun, and shot the loaded dart right into Spain's butt cheek.

"Gotcha, bastard," he smirked, walking over, seeing Italy running away in fear. "Hopefully you'll learn to take your meds…"

Spain had stopped mid-swing, and was now still as a statue. His only comment was "Ow…"

"Thank God that's over with…." Romano told himself.

Spain, meanwhile, was blinking owlishly, axe lowered to the ground, forgotten. "Whoa…" He suddenly swayed dangerously. "Dizzy…"

Romano patted Spain on the shoulder comfortingly. "It'll be okay…" he cooed. "I'll make some pasta for you when you wake up."

The taller man suddenly grabbed Romano's upper arms to keep his balance. "Romano… I…" He swayed once more, looking at Romano, face more serious that the Italian had ever seen him. "I… Romano, you… you complete me…"

Romano blushed. "…. I'm just gonna pretend that's the meds kicking in…" he murmured, looking away.

And then Spain fell directly into Romano's arms, the smaller man staggering under the sudden weight.

"Dammit, Spain, you're heavy. Lay off the churros…" The only thing he got in response for his troubles was a loud snore. Romano sighed. "Fuck this," he muttered, and promptly dropped Spain, walking back to the kitchen.

Spain simply let out another snore.

Romano walked out a few minutes later, a giant bowl of pasta in his hands and a fork in his mouth. "Oh well. More for me."

"Zzzzz…" Spain replied.

Romano crouched down next to the sleeping Spain, waving a forkful of pasta in front of him. "Hey, fuckface. Food."

That got a response. At least the idiot was stirring.

Romano smirked. "… I made fresh tomato sauce…"

Spain blinked his eyes open, hand immediately going to his head. "Ugh…" he groaned. "What happened?"

The smaller man rolled his eyes. "You forgot to take your medicine… again…"

Spain slowly sat up, wincing. "Why does my butt hurt?"

Oh, this was too good. "I fucked you so hard you blacked out…"

"Oh…" Spain blinked. He glanced around. "Why are we outside?"

"Because you're a fucking moron, that's why."

"Oh… why is Italy running away…?"

Romano resisted the urge to slap the dumb Spaniard. "Stop asking such stupid questions. Do you want to pasta or not…?"

Spain blinked up at him, green eyes still confused. "Uh, sure…" he reached out to take the bowl that Romano was offering before the Italian snatched it back.

"Too bad. I'm gonna eat all of it and you have to watch!" And with that, Romano shoved a huge portion of pasta into his mouth, slurping at the wayward noodles loudly.

Spain retracted his hand. "Okay…"

"Stop being a fucking moron or I'll give you another dose of medicine."

Romano could practically see the lightbulb finally go on over Spain's head. "I forgot to take my medicine last night, didn't I?" he asked, realization dawning on his face.

"Yes, you did, you fucking dipshit…" Romano huffed, sitting back on his haunches.

"I'm sorry…" Spain said, green eyes searching.

"You'd better be, you asshat," Romano scolded. Honestly, sometimes Spain could be nothing more than a child.

Spain blushed, looking away. "What the fuck are you blushing for?"

The blush only deepened. "I did something bad… didn't I?"

"Yes. Yes you did…" Romano told him. "You almost killed my baby brother!"

For his hi part, Spain really did look sorry. "I'm sorry…" he apologized.

"Don't apologize to me. You need to apologize to Feli. He's probably off crying to the potato bastard right now…" Even the thought of that stupid bastard made Romano angry.

"Yeah… Okay…" Spain moved to stand up, legs still wobbly.

"Well, when you go off to Germany's house, feel free to kick Prussia's ass. You don't need a reason. Do it only because I told you to." Maybe this could still work to his advantage. That was… before Spain promptly fell back down. "Get your ass up, you lazy piece of shit," Romano snarled. Dammit, he wanted Germany dead! Spain tried once more, only to fall again with a small, "oof!"

Romano rolled his eyes (wasn't he doing that a lot lately?) and began to walk away. "I'll just go eat my pasta while you keep falling." There. Some motivation for the bastard.

Unfortunately for him, Spain simply sat there, watching the smaller man walk away, blinking confusedly. This entire thing was so confusing to him… Romano watched him from the kitchen window.

"You're not gonna help me?" Spain called, pouting a little at Romano from the driveway.

"That's what you get for being a dumbass," Romano yelled in retaliation.

Spain sniffed pathetically. Romano once again rolled his eyes.

"Get the fuck over it."

"How am I supposed to if I can't get up?" Oh, so _now_ the bastard decided to use his brain…

"And that's my problem how…?"

Spain pouted in response.

"… Stop being so pathetic." And just when Romano thought there was hope for the idiot…

The brunette tried once more to stand up, and actually made it on his feet this time, before his balance cut out and he tumbled to the ground again. Romano watched from the window, bringing up a chair and sitting down in it. "This is more entertaining than television!" he giggle, taking amusement in Spain's failure.

Spain let out a sigh. "This sucks," he muttered. Romano heard him, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully.

"I know what else can suck," he smirked.

Spain raised his eyebrows, green eyes hopeful.

"Well, seeing as you wouldn't be able to run away…" Romano abandoned his seat and rummaged in the kitchen for a moment, before strolling casually outside, hands behind his back, before coming to s stop in front of Spain, who simply grinned hugely up at him. "Get to sucking then…" he commanded. The Spaniard's grin dropped, face confused.

"… What…?"

Romano slipped one of his out from behind his back, handing Spain a popsicle. "I said get to sucking. They're the grape ones, so I can't stand them…."

Spain slowly took the frozen treat. "Oh… thanks…" he muttered, frowning.

"I know how much you like the cherry popsicles since they remind you of tomatoes, so I think I'm going to eat all of them while you can't move," Romano told him, basking in the entire situation.

"This is punishment for not taking my meds, isn't it?"

Ah. So he wasn't as dumb as he looked. "Why would you think that?"

Spain tore the wrapper off the popsicle, examining it before licking it slowly. Romano shivered, despite the heat. " 'Cause you're basically torturing me," the older man said.

"Can you name a time where I didn't torture you?" Romano watched Spain's tongue swirm around the popsicle.

"But I love the cherry popsicles!" Spain cried, lower lip jutting out slightly before he bit into the treat, chewing quickly and swallowing. Romano scowled.

"You don't deserve it today…"

Spain finished off the treat, throwing the stick into the yard. One of his servants would get it later. "At least help me into the house…" he pleaded.

"Why should I?" Romano challenged, hands going to his hips.

Spain pointed to the sky. " 'Cause it's gonna rain," he told the Italian, looking into his eyes.

"You fucking moron. There's no clouds…"

Spain groaned. "Come on, Romano! I don't wanna sit out here all day!"

"It's your own fault…"

"Fine." Spain crossed his eyes and looked at the ground.

"Good," Romano muttered, also crossing his arms and looking away. A sniff from Spain brought his attention back to the other man. "Fucking pussy." More sniffles. "I'm going inside for a drink…" he muttered, turning on his heel. He took a few steps before he heard Spain begin to cry. "Stop crying, you pussy," he scolded, and turned to throw a tomato at the helpless man. It landed on his brown head.

"Fine," Spain sniffed, wiping his eyes. He whipped out his cell phone and held it to his ear. "Hi, France? Yeah, can you come over? I can't get up…"

Did Spain think he was stupid? He didn't even dial a number… "See ya…" Romano told him, going inside.

A storm cloud appeared above Spain's head, crackling with thunder. "Damn… I thought that would work…" he muttered, flipping his phone shut.

Romano, meanwhile, was busy locking all the doors and windows, cackling madly. Spain fell to lie on his back. "This sucks," he repeated, arms spread out.

Romano had opened up a window, chucking a grape popsicle at his head. "Go suck on that!" he yelled, smirking. This was too much fun. He should do this more often…

Spain, however, continued to lie on his back. "Why me?" he asked the sky, the storm cloud above his head flashing a bolt of thunder.

"Cuz you're a moron?" Romano shouted from the window. Spain scowled at cloud.

"You're the one who won't help me!"

"You're the one who forced me to shoot you in the butt!" Romano countered.

"That's no reason to leave me here!"

"Give me a reason why I _shouldn't_ leave you there!"

"You shouldn't need a reason! You should do it 'cause you love me!"

"Well, I don't feel like it…" Romano huffed, hair curl bouncing as he crossed his arms.

"Fine." Spain threw his arm over his eyes. "I hate this."

"I hate your face!" Romano called.

"Obviously!" Spain sputtered.

"I hate your mom!" Romano countered.

"Don't bring mi madre into this!" Spain yelled, arm still over his face.

"Well, she must me stupid if she had you!"

"So what does that make your mom?" Spain cried.

"Awesome!"

Yeah, right. "Yeah, okay…" Spain flung his arm out and sat up. He maneuvered himself so that he was on his hands and knees and began to crawl to the house, butt up in the air. This did not escape Romano's attention.

"I locked the door, bastard!" he yelled, watching Spain's slow trek to the house.

Aaaaannnddd…. Spain fell face first into the ground, ass still hanging in the air. "Fuck this…" he murmured into the grass.

"You can stay out there until you learn to take your medicine!" Romano yelled, eyes raking over that fine ass…

Spain said nothing, simply lying on the ground with his perfect butt in the air. Romano shivered, face becoming red, and not just from anger.

"Stop tempting me!" he cried.

Spain looked up at the window and scowled at the Italian. "I'm not!" he yelled. "I can't get up, remember!"

"Then how'd you get your butt up?" Romano snickered.

"Fuck you." Spain let his head fall to the ground again.

"Sure," was the flippant reply. Spain's head shot up.

"Really?" he asked hopefully.

Romano shrugged. "As long as you can get into the house. Why the hell not." Now, normally, he wouldn't have promised something like that, but with the condition that Spain was is, there was no way that he was moving. And all the windows and doors were locked, so the idiot couldn't get in. Romano had it made! He smiled to himself as Spain renewed his efforts and began to crawl once more. "Keep working for it, bastard!" he cheered, smirking. Spain's speed increased, but even one of his turtles could have beaten him at the pace he was going. "This is gonna take forever. I'll just make some more pasta while I wait…" he muttered, and went to do just that.

It was quite some time later when Spain reached the front door, He turned the knob, face falling when he realized that it was locked. He knocked. "Romano, let me in!" he yelled.

Romano poked his head out from the window, a little surprised that the other man had actually made it. "You gotta get in by yourself…" he reminded him, smirking.

Spain flopped on the front steps. "How am I supposed to do that?" he whined.

"Figure it out!" Romano snapped. His only response was a broken sob. "If you want it bad enough, you can figure it out," he added.

Spain sat up and crawled back down the driveway. Romano's face twisted into confusion before he snorted. "I don't need it as much as you do!" The other man disappeared around the corner. Romano huffed. "Whatever…" he frowned, going back to his pasta, keeping an eye where Spain had disappeared to. He'd be lying if he said that he wasn't curious as to what the bastard was doing.

A sudden war cry made Romano stiffen as Spain came charging up the front yard, his battle axe held tightly in his hands. The Italian dropped his bowl of pasta. "Holy fucking shit!" he squeaked, scrambling to close and lock the window.

It was no use. Spain wasn't aiming for the window; instead, he came smashing through the front door, an evil smile on his face, green eyes blazing.

Romano stood in the doorway to the kitchen, rooted to the spot. "…fuck…" was all his stunned brain could come up with.

Spain dropped his axe on the floor, grinning. "Hola, Romano!" he said happily. "I can stand up again!"

Roamno's brain struggled to catch up. "… How… wait, what…?"

Spain seemed not to notice. "And I found a way in, too!" he continued to grin.

Romano resisted the urge to facepalm. "Fucking shit…" he muttered. He watched as Spain comtinued to smile idiotically at him. "… Fine…" he sighed, rolling his eyes.

The other man's smile grew. "Now?" he asked.

"Whatever," Romano snorted, heading upstairs, Spain following him closely, grin huge.

* * *

><p>Sometimes we just get carried away... Lol. Stay tuned for more, especially since we both move back in 2 weeks. That means boring classes and boring classes = texting = role playing = epic.<p>

You get my drift...


	5. Chapter 5

Finally! I tried to upload this last night, but my Doc Manager was being a douche and wouldn't show me any of my toolbar. And all of my text was squished together, and it was really pissing me off...

But now it works, and I'm happy! :D

Anyways, here's the next chapter of our roleplay. Actually, this little snippet is from two weeks ago, during class. There's another, much longer (7 pages on Word, just the messages, no editing) one as well, but I decided to work on the shorter one first. I've been so swamped with school lately, that hardly nothing has gotten done, so this weekend, since I'm done until next weekend, I'll be trying to work on a lot of my stories :).

But enough. Read on!

**Disclaimer: "Hetalia" isn't mine... no matter how much I ask for it...**

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><p>Romano flung open the door to his house, ripping his tie off in the process as he stormed into the hallway. Spain was following him closely, trying to talk to him in calming Spanish.<p>

"Fuck off, Spain," the Italian snarled.

Spain frowned. "That's not nice, Romano," he said. "Maybe I need to teach you some manners…"

"How would I know when you don't teach me shit?" Romano threw his now mangled tie to the side, where it landed on the floor. He glared at his former caretaker.

"That's not true!" the other man denied, loosening his own tie. "I taught you Spanish!"

"Spanish does not equal manners!" the auburn man cried. He didn't even remember when they were arguing about to being with. "And the only thing you taught me to say was 'kiss me'… fucking pedo…"

Spain shook his head. "No, I taught you to say other things too!" he exclaimed. "You just only learned how to say 'kiss me'! And its not like you say it to me, anyways. You only say it to Belgium…" By the end of his sentence, Spain's voice grew quite, almost sad. He looked almost sad.

On the other hand, Romano only cared about the first part of Spain's argument. "Bullshit! What other phrases did you try to teach me? That's right, nothing!" The smaller man crossed his arms over his chest.

Across from him, Spain looked almost looked like he was in pain. "I tried to teach you everything, but you never paid attention!" he told his former charge, green eyes flashing with an unknown emotion.

"You never gave me a reason to pay attention!"

"You never wanted to pay attention! All you did was eat pizza and sleep!"

Romano grimaced and put his hands over his ears. "Stop fucking yelling at me!"

"_You_ stop yelling at _me_!" Spain continued to yell.

This was getting to be ridiculous. Romano had no idea what they were supposed to be arguing about anymore, and Spain was acting completely out of character. The older man was not supposed to be arguing back in this manner, and the Italian had no idea what was wrong with the other.

So, doing the only thing that he knew would get Spain back to somewhat of his normal self, Romano promptly burst into tears, retreating to a completely random corner of his hallway that temporarily became an emo corner.

As expected, Spain's face melted into one of worry, and he rushed over to offer his comfort to the smaller man. "Ro… Romano! Don't… don't cry!"

Romano snapped up his tear-stained face and glared at him "Fucking asshole!" he growled, and uncurled from his position to effectively punch Spain in the vital regions. Surprised, the brunette crumpled to the floor, clutching at said vital regions, the wind knocked out of him.

"You fucking deserve it," Romano spat, wiping his tear-stained face with his sleeve, completely uncaring about ruining his good Mafia suit. He'd have to call the dry cleaners to make sure that they got the stains out.

Meanwhile, on the ground, Spain rolled back and forth, groaning and clutching his crotch. Romano stood up, removing his jacket and throwing to land with his tie. He glared distastefully at the Spaniard before grinning maniacally and kicking the fallen nation's side, cackling.

However, he was not expecting Spain to reach out an arm, hand grabbing Romano's ankle and pulling him down to the floor. Romano fell with an undignified squawk, landing on his back. Spain rolled to the side, curling into the fetal position as he did so. The Italian glared, reaching out a hand to bitch slap the Spaniard.

"Fuck you," he said, eyes narrowed as his partner's cheek turned red from the slap.

"You're a brat," Spain replied, turning on his side and facing away from the smaller man.

"And you're a dumbass…" Romano retorted. The two lay on the floor for quite some time, neither saying anything, quite unlike the pair. Usually, the only time that they were completely silent was when they were sleeping.

… In completely separate beds, mind you. There was no way that Romano was going to sleep with that tomato bastard…

Yeah…

Sitting up slightly to lean on his elbow, Romano, after not being able to take the silence any longer, poked the Spaniard randomly in the back. "Make me some fucking pasta. I'm hungry…" he prodded, all malice from his voice gone.

"Make it yourself," came the sullen reply.

Romano blinked. "But you fucking promised me three meals a day and a nap with pasta!" he cried. That was the deal! "I want that pasta!"

Still refusing to face the other man, Spain replied, "you technically never answered my question, so I don't really have to do anything for you."

There was a long pause. "Just make me the pasta," Romano grumbled.

"Why should I?"

"Because I said so."

"I don't have to do anything you say."

"But you're whipped so will do as I say," Romano said smugly.

The only response he got was a series of grumbles.

Romano paused for a moment. "…Make me the past… now!"

Spain grumbled some more, but obediently climbed to his feet. As he took a step towards the kitchen, Romano reached up and affectionately patted the man's ass. "Good little bitch," he praised.

Spain turned around and glared at him.

"I thought I told you to make pasta…" Romano scolded. "Do it!"

Turning back around, Spain headed towards the kitchen, muttering in quiet Spanish.

Romano smirked, lying back down on his back, hands behind his head as the sounds of cooking came from the next room. He hummed in contentment, closing his eyes. The smell of pasta quickly wafted through the house.

Quite a bit later, Romano opened an eye as sounds grew quiet. He sat up, looking towards the opening as soft footsteps echoed down the hall. In came Spain, an apron over his clothes and a bowl of steaming pasta in his hands. Romano smirked once more, reaching out to take the bowl of deliciousness from the man's hands.

Too late, he noticed the absence of a fork, and soon found himself covered from head to toe in the warm noodles and sauce as Spain threw the entire bowl on him.

"Here's you're fucking pasta!" the Spaniard yelled, letting the plastic bowl drop to his feet.

The Italian gaped in shock, a slimy noodle sliding down his cheek. He could feel the sauce oozing down the back of his neck and rolling down his shirt.

And Spain just stood there… smirking…

Romano burst into tears again.

But this time, it wasn't working. Instead of hurrying over to comfort his "little tomato," Spain crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. "Oh, stop. I only know you do that so I'll come rushing over and you can punch me in the vital regions again."

Eyes flashing, Romano glared at the taller man. He stood up and stomped over to the Spaniard. Before he had to time to comprehend what was happening, Romano promptly kicked him the vital regions. Spain, predictably, went down, groaning as he clutched his crotch.

"Didn't fucking punch you this time…" Romano sniffed, wiping his eyes. "Asshole…"

"Brat…" Spain groaned, curling into the fetal position again as he tried to ride out the pain.

"What the hell is up with you today?" Romano asked, scowling. It wasn't like Spain to talk back, even when he was in pain. And what the fuck was with the pasta? Why would he do that…? "You took your meds, right?"

Spain sat up, grimacing slightly in pain. "Of course I took my meds." He carefully stood, facing the Italian. "I don't want you shooting me in the ass again."

What the fuck? "Then why are you such an ass today?" Romano demanded.

"Why are you such an ass everyday?" Spain retorted, glaring. And with that, he undid his apron, threw with Romano's jacket and tie, and promptly walked out the front door, leaving a stunned Romano in his wake.

* * *

><p>This one was fun to do, 'cause I was in a bitchy mood, and I kinda just went with it. The whole pasta scene was beautiful, and props for my Romano for going with it :).<p>

We've tried to incorporate some of the previous plays in our current ones, as you can see by the comment Romano made about the meds. XD

Whelp, expect another one, hopefully soon! And keep a look out for my other stories to be updated! And review! They make happy authors... :)


	6. Chapter 6

Good, Lord, this took forever for me to write. This conversation actually took place all the way back in October, but at the time, my computer adapter was broken, so I didn't get the time to write it out until afterwards. Then I kinda forgot about it, starting writing "Without a Paddle," and when I finally had the time to write everything I was neglecting, my computer broke, as I've stated in a few other stories. Back at school means more roleplaying, so I had to finish this one so that we could start a new one! As I was writing this, it was kinda funny, 'cause I forgot a lot of the stuff that happened, and when I read out a few things to my friend, she was like, "I don't remember that either."

So, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

**_Disclaimer: I still own nothing... Le sigh..._**

* * *

><p>It was nearing midday in Madrid, Spain, and a grumpy Italian was lazily lounging on the couch in his former caretaker's home. Said caretaker was sitting across from him in a huge armchair, his face completely hidden by a book.<p>

Romano sighed. "I'm hungry," he announced, flailing his arms slightly for emphasis.

Spain remained engrossed in his book, not even acknowledging the other man.

The Italian frowned, eyes narrowed. "Don't make me smack you…" he warned.

Still nothing. Romano sat up. "Bastard, stop reading that fucking book and tend to my needs!" he yelled.

Spain seemed to be reading the book intensely. His face was contorted in extreme concentration. But at least the idiot had enough sense to lower the book slightly.

"Stop pretending to read," Romano snorted. "Everyone knows you can't focus long enough to finish a sentence." _Let alone read_, he thought to himself.

Finally, Spain glanced up. "But this book is about you, Roma-chan," he grinned.

That surprised Romano. "What the fuck are you attempting to read?" he slowly stood up and began to make his way to the other man.

Until Spain smirked at him. "Your journal…"

Romano stopped dead in his tracks. "Where the fuck did you find…" he stopped, face growing red, and coughed nervously. "I mean… what journal?"

The bastard smiled. "My little tomato should leave his things out where boss Spain can find them," he cooed, absolutely giddy.

"Give me my fucking journal back you fucking fuck face!" Romano leapt the rest of the way across the room and tackled the Spaniard to the ground. The two landed with a loud thump as Romano tried to grab the book.

Spain merely held it out of the other man's reach. "Aw, but I like all the nice things that you've written about me in here!" he said, wincing as Romano kneed him in the vital regions.

Romano sputtered. "Stop reading! I demand it!" He reached forward to grab the journal, but Spain suddenly switched hands. He brought it up to his face, still keeping it away from the Italian, and began reading.

"-and his churros are good, too. Especially dipped in chocolate. He likes to sing while harvesting tomatoes… I like his songs."

"Stop making up lies!" Romano screeched, face beat red as he desperately tried to grab the journal. "The churros are a lie!"

Spain gasped, pausing. "The churros are not a lie!" he defended. "Besides, you wrote it right here!"

Romano tried to punch Spain in the face, but the brunette rolled away at the last second. "I wrote lies! When have I ever told the truth?"

Spain looked confused. "Why would you write lies in your diary?"

"Why would you read my diary?" Romano countered, grabbing onto the Spaniard's wrist. Spain broke it easily.

" 'Cause I wanted to see how you really felt about me." Jesus fucking Christ, the idiot actually smiled.

"You're a fucking freak, you know that, right?" Romano asked, sitting back a little to glare at Spain.

"Your mouth says I am, but your diary says I'm not" Spain smirked.

Romano froze. "… What else did you read…?" he asked, horror building in the pit of his stomach.

Spain's smirk only grew. "Aaaalllll~ of it…" he sang.

Romano's face became even redder, and his stomach churned. This was going no where. He had to change tactics. "…Fine, you piece of shit," he growled, standing. "I'm just gonna have a siesta. Don't disturb me… asshole."

"Want me to come with you?" A flash of teeth as the bastard stood.

"Hell no!" Romano spat. "Just make yourself useful and make me some food for when I wake up." He turned around and began walking out of the room.

Behind him, Spain flipped through the journal and pointed at something particular on the page. "According to you, you ALWAYS want me to come and have a siesta with you…" his grin widened.

Romano spun around and tried to grab the book again. "When the fuck did I write that?"

"Yesterday…" More of the grinning. God, was that the only thing this bastard did?

"I did not! Stop these lies!" Romano jumped as Spain held the book above his head, standing on his toes.

He read directly from the journal once more. "I wish Spain would come and take a siesta with me. I get so lonely."

"… I don't get lonely… I get cold…" Romano muttered. "Dumbass."

Spain smirked again. "So you _do_ want me to come and take siestas with you," he said, waggling his eyebrows.

"No! I just said I get cold!" Romano defended. "So I'll keep my clothes on this time!"

The eyebrows waggled more. "But body heat is better."

Romano just stared at him, a disgusted expression on his face. "… Stay away from me, you pedo…"

Spain pouted. "But you're all grown up now…" he muttered.

"I saw the way you looked at me when I was little, you sick bastard!" Romano yelled.

The other man became flustered. "But I was waiting for you!" he argued.

Romano scoffed. "Don't you remember what you used to do when you thought I was asleep?"

Spain scratched his head, brow furrowed as he tried to remember. "…No?" he finally came up with. Idiot.

The Italian blushed. "I'm not even gonna describe it. It was so fucking traumatizing."

"But… I never did anything!" Spain defended.

"Yes, you did! Don't you fucking deny it! Fucking pedo…"

Spain looked devastated. "I swear, my little tomato, I never did anything!"

"Then who snuck into my room at night and tried to get pictures of me sleeping naked?" Romano yelled.

At this, the Spaniard looked horrified. The thought of someone trying to do that to his precious little tomato… "I don't know, but it wasn't me!"

"I told you to stop fucking lying to me!"

"I'm not lying, I swear!"

Romano crossed his arms. "I call bullshit but whatever…" He began to walk in the direction of the door. "I'm gonna go take a siesta… BY MYSELF!" he added over his shoulder.

"Fine," Spain huffed. "I'll just sit here and read more of your diary."

Romano paused, then spun around, a smirk on his face. "I thought you said you already read all of it?"

The older man looked away, fidgeting slightly. "Not all of it…"

"That's not what you said earlier, you dumbass!" God, why did he put up with this?

"I just read a few parts…" Spain told him, looking anywhere but at his former charge.

"Then fucking give it back to me or you don't get to have a siesta with me!" Romano yelled.

Spain looked at the book in his hands, then to Romano, and then back to the book. He glanced at Romano once more. Romano was standing in the doorway and he was beginning to take off his shirt… very seductively, one might add, smirking all the while.

It was a win-win situation for the Italian as he noticed Spain's nose begin to bleed.

"Give me back my fucking journal, or you won't see more of this!" Romano taunted, throwing his shirt to the floor.

Spain took the back of his hand and wiped the blood dribbling from his nose. "Only if you promise!" he exclaimed.

Romano rolled his eyes, huffing. "…Fine," he agreed.

The grin that Spain gave him was entirely too big for his face. "Okay!"

"Then hand it over!" Romano glared, hold out his hands for the book.

But Spain merely looked at it once more. Romano glared more and picked up his shirt, putting it back on. "Asshole."

"You can it after the siesta," Spain told him with a smile.

"If you don't hand it back now, I'm never sleeping with you again!" Romano threatened. There. See how the bastard responded to that!

Spain gasped. "You wouldn't!"

"I would!" The Italian confirmed.

Spain adopted a kicked puppy look. "… But why?" he whispered.

"Because you're a dumbas! You don't care about my feelings!" Romano sniffed. "You kept reading it even when I told you not to!"

"But… I only wanted to know more about my little tomato…" Spain pouted sadly. "You never talk to me…"

"Because you just stare into space the whole fucking time!"

"Nuh uh! I listen!"

"What did I tell you last night in bed?" Romano challenged.

Spain paused, tilting his head and thinking hard. "… That you hate Germany…?" he asked.

Okay… "… While that is true, that's not what I fucking said!"

"… That you think France is a pervert?" Spain tried again.

"Again, that's true…" He was just naming off things that annoyed the fuck out of the Italian, hoping that one of them was something he had mentioned last night. "But you're a dumbass that doesn't fucking listen!"

"Well, talking to me in bed isn't the best scenario!" Spain snapped.

This was true. Once Spain was in bed, hardly anything got through that already thick skull. It was like, as soon as he touched the sheets, his entire being shut down.

Not like Romano was going to tell him that he understood. Fuck no!

"I listen to what you have to say, you insensitive bastard!"

"I don't talk in bed!" Spain yelled.

"You do mumble disturbing things in your sleep though…" Romano thought aloud. "Makes me wanna punch you in the face even more…"

Spain looked confused. "I don't sleep talk…" he said.

"How would you know?" Romano spat.

"You just said I did…" Romano could see Spain getting more and more confused.

"… And you just said you didn't…" Romano resisted the urge to face-palm. "You don't even pay attention to what you say."

"…So… I do talk in my sleep?" Spain asked.

This time, Romano did face-palm. "Yes!"

"…What do I say?"

"Something about tomatoes and my butt…" Romano muttered, glancing away.

"But your ass looks so nice in those red pants I got for you…" Spain whined.

"…Is the only reason you got me those pants was to look at my ass?" Romano sputtered.

Spain merely gave him a sly look. "…Maybe…" he drawled.

"I'm never wearing those fucking pants again," Romano told him disgustedly. "Looks like I'm stuck wearing sweatpants… Im gonna go burn those fucking pants now…"

Spain frowned. "Aw, but you look so sexy in them…"

"You're such a fucking pervert!"

"So I'm not allowed to admire your ass in those red pants, but you can ogle at mine when I wear my matador pants?" Spain asked, eyes narrowing.

"Exactly!" Romano cried. Finally! Some progress! "That's how this 'relationship' is supposed to work!"

"Well, this relationship is fucked up then!" Spain huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"When wasn't it?" Romano asked, following the other man's example.

"… True… " Spain agreed. "Well, if this is the case… then maybe I don't want it to be this way anymore…"

Wait… what? Was Spain… was that bastard breaking up with him! Oh, fuck no! Spain wasn't allowed to break up with him! Only Romano was allowed to decide when this relationship was over! Did he really mean that little to Spain? Romano felt his throat begin to close up, but swallowed past it. No way was he showing Spain how hurt he was.

"Fine. You can just leave then," he glared.

"Fine," Spain echoed. "Take your stupid diary." He threw the book on the ground by his feet and crossed the room, pushing past Romano to walk out the door.

Romano followed, but began to head upstairs to take a siesta. Spain continued to the front door.

Romano watched him for a moment before scoffing. I can't believe that dumbass is leaving his own house…"

Spain threw open the door and walked down the driveway, heading to France's house.

"See ya, you stupid fucktard!" Romano called after him, beginning to strip off his clothes for bed. He threw a look over at Spain and the other nation. Spain was stripping for France. "Have fun getting raped!" he yelled. He glanced once more to see things getting a bit heated. He shrugged and turned over, letting out a huge snore, trying to ignore the loud sounds.

"Stop faking it behind that tomato plant!" he yelled, glaring at them. "I can see you!" Honestly, he was trying to sleep, here!"

The perverts only got louder.

"You're a fucking freak!" Romano glared. "I can see you doing shit behind that plant!"

Spain suddenly cried out, only it was more of a scream. And it was Romano's name.

Romano raised an eyebrow.

"Shit…" he heard Spain mutter.

"What are you saying shit for…?" Romano asked, sitting up. Obviously, he wasn't going to be getting his siesta today.

"Uh… no-nothing…" Spain said, coming out from behind the bush and making his way back to Romano, avoiding his eyes.

Romano shook his head. "…Dumbass," he muttered. When Spain got back to him, he glared at the older nation. "Clean yourself up and make yourself useful," he told him. "Cook me something."

"… Can we have churros after?" Spain asked hopefully, pulling his shirt and pants back on.

Romano rolled his eyes "…Sure…" he relented.

"And a kiss…?" Spain's puppy dog eyes couldn't have gotten any bigger.

"Hell no!" Romano spat. He was drawing the line there.

"Aw…" Spain frowned.

"Dumbass," Romano muttered.

"Please?"

"No!"

"But I'm emotionally scarred from what happened with France!" Spain cried.

"You weren't with France…" Romano told him. "You were behind the tomatoes the whole time!"

"No, France…" Spain murmured. He wrapped his arms around his stomach. "He hurt me!" A single tear fell from his eye.

Romano rolled his eyes. And wasn't that becoming the theme of the day? "I'm afraid to ask, but where?" he asked.

"He did a bad touch…" Spain whispered.

Romano pulled out a random doll and held up to Spain. "Now show me where he touched you," he said.

Spain pointed to the dolls chest area. "Here," he muttered. He brought his hand lower. "And here…"

"…That's your belly button…"

Spain's hand traveled lower. "And here…"

"That's your knee…"

"Not there!" Spain glared. He pointed to the dolls crotch. "Here!"

"He touches everyone there. That's how he says hello. You should know that by now, dumbass…"

"But it was horrible!" Spain cried.

"Then stop being a fucking pussy about it and kick his ass!" Honestly, this guy used to be a superpower?

"But how?" Spain sniffed. "He's so much stronger than me…"

Romano simply stared at him "… He's weaker than my little brother…" he deadpanned.

Spain sniffed again. "No, he's not. His economy is better… and I'm so weak from my own that I can't."

"Stop being such a fucking pussy!"

Spain threw his hands over his ears. "Stop yelling at me!" he clenched his eyes shut.

"NO!" Romano screamed louder.

"Stop!"

"Fuck you! You're always whining about stupid shit but you never act on! Grow some fucking balls!"

There was the sound of something dropping, and Spain's pupils dilated

"…What?" Romano asked.

Spain suddenly grabbed Romano and threw him to the ground. "I said stop yelling at me!" he screamed.

Romano glared at him from the ground. "Did you just do what I think you did?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

Spain's pupils went back to their normal size and he stared wide-eyed at Romano. The Italians eyes began to tear up. "Fuck you, you fucking asshole!"

"Ah! Romano!" Spain cried, and rushed over to Romano's side. What was wrong with his little tomato?

"Don't fucking touch me!" Romano screeched, still glaring.

Spain recoiled. "What?"

"You fucking pushed me to the ground!" Romano yelled.

"I… I'm sory!" Spain stammered. "I didn't… I wasn't paying attention!"

"You never fucking pay attention!"

" I… I'm sorry! Let me kiss it and make it better!" Spain started forward once more.

"I said don't fucking touch me!" Romano sat up and piulled out a gun from nowhere, making Spain step back.

"Whaaa…?"

"This is what happens when you mess with me," Romano said, still glaring. Sometimes, he really enjoyed having the Mafia be in his part of the country.

Spain began to scramble backwards. "Romano…" he begged. "Please…"

"Please, what?" Romano asked. Aw, yeah. He was such a badass.

"Please don't hurt me!" Spain cowered.

"Hey, dumbass… the safety is on," Romano smirked. "I can't believe you fell for that!" he chuckled. Suddenly, the gun went off. "Oh, shit!"

The bullet hit Spain in the ass. "OOOWWW!" he cried, clutching his butt.

"Don't be a fucking pussy about it!" Romano yelled, though he was a little worried about his former-caretaker's perfect ass…

"You shot me in the ass!" Spain replied, face contorted in pain.

"So?" Romano twirled the gun around his finger nonchalantly as he tried to figure out a way to save Spain's ass. The gun went off again, startling him. "Mother fucker!"

The bullet hit the other side of Spain's ass. "DIOS MIO!" the nation cried!

"You'd better get some tweezers to get those bullets out of your ass," Romano said, throwing the gun on the couch. It went off once more. "How many fucking bullets are in that thing?" he exclaimed, ducking his head.

This time, the bullet hit a rather… vital region on Spain, and he collapsed on the ground.

"MOTHERFUCKER!"

Romano paused to watch him. "Well, I guess that means I finally get to top!" he said, a small smirk making its way across his face. He watched, amused, as Spain rolled around on the floor in pain. He should probably be a little more worried, but Spain was a nation. He'd be fine. "Suck it up, pussy."

Spain cried out in pain. Romano responded by kicking him.

"I think I'm in pain!" Spain shouted.

Romano stopped. That sounded very familiar… "… Were you watching 'Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog' again?" he glared.

Spain stopped rolling to look both ways before replying. "Maaaayyyyybbbeeeee…" he said.

Romano kicked him again. "Dumbass."

Spain suddenly stood up and pointed at Romano. "Hey! I've got a PhD in tomatoes!" he exclaimed.

Romano could only blink.

Spain's television and Internet privileges were officially revoked.

* * *

><p>Okay, so about "Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog." I had never seen it, and we have Netflix here at school, so my friends made me watch it. It was awesome, and a few days later, we did this roleplay, and we had to incorporate it in SOMEHOW.<p>

Don't judge me. Dr. Horrible is awesome.


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